Date: Fri, 14 Jul 2017 13:41:10 -0400
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE Chapter 51
DYLAN'S JUNIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE
Chapter 51
by Donny Mumford
Daryl's reading the pamphlet Shawn gave him as I drive us away from the
Rockingham Mall. We rarely stay-in on a Saturday night but that's what we're
doing tonight because of Rob's concussion and Pony's sore tit. Speaking of
which I'm was super impressed with how well he dealt with his nipple
piercing. Jesus, compared to him I was a big baby getting my nipple pierced. Of
course, the circumstances surrounding my nipple piercing were very
different from Pony's. I got mine during my New York City trip visiting John and
Billy. The reason I was a wreck the day of the piercing was John had me
scheduled to get my penis pierced in what's known as a Prince Albert.
Fortunately, that didn't happen but he insisted I at least get my nipple pierced. Now
I'm glad he did but at the time I was a basket case. In hindsight, I still
think some aspects of that New York City adventure were pretty cool.
Overall though I'm not cut-out for what was basically a master/slave situation
for those two, so I escaped in the wee hours of Sunday morning.
Pony interrupts my musings, "Ya know what, Dylan?" I go, "No, what?" He
smirks at me, and says, "First off, thanks for coming with me today." I nod,
"You're welcome." He taps the pamphlet, adding, "And secondly, everything
the pamphlet says I should do is in this so-called after-care-kit Shawn told
me I should buy. I really liked him. Anyway, I should have no trouble
healing." I mumble, "Good," while thinking it's not going to be as simple as
he thinks. Pony asks, "So how long did it take your nipple to heal?" I go,
"Um, about two months I think. It was a royal pain-in-the-ass at times
though, like when I'd roll over on it in my sleep." He asks, "What'd you do?" I
go, "Usually I'd wake-up yelling, 'Ow!' and then do some cursing." He goes,
"No, I meant what did you do to prevent that from happening? Do you have
any helpful advice?" I mumble, "Yeah, put a Band-aid over the ring so it
doesn't get snagged on anything." He goes, "That's in the pamphlet," and then
he pulls his shirt up to look at his nip ring, mumbling, "My fucking
nipple looks as sore as it feels. Oh man though, did you see how quickly that
cool dude did the whole thing? Like five seconds." I go, "Yeah, you
lucked-out having Shawn do it for you."
As we turn onto route 114, he asks, "Do you think Shawn's gay?" I nod,
"That'd be my guess, not that it matters." He mumbles, "He looked kinda young
too. I think he liked me. You know, the way he kept giving me pats on the
shoulder. When he leaned his face close to mine doing the piercing he
smelled good." I mutter, "Uh huh." Letting his shirt drop down, Pony mumbles,
"I'm thinking maybe I'll go back to the Mall and flirt with Shawn a little.
Show him I'm available." I glance over and see him smirking again.
When Pony realizes I'm not going to say anything about his Shawn remarks,
he goes, "Yeah, I'll bet Shawn has a big cock, and I know that ugly
partner of his definitely has a big one. I'd like to feel a real man's hard cock
up my ass for once." Then he can't help snorting out a laugh, adding,
"Yeah, a real big hard cock would feel good for a change." His laughter gets me
chuckling too, as I'm muttering, "You asshole!" He holds his hands a foot
apart, saying, "Something like this long... and really fat too. Damn, that'd
be something." Laughing with him I sputter out, "I'll buy you a humongous
dildo and happily plow your ass with it." He's laughing so hard he hiccups,
then he goes, "Oh fuck, I can't catch my breath."
When parked behind the apartment we get out and go in the back door with
Pony still snickering. I go, "Apparently, there's no sense in me fucking you
anymore; not with my measly six-inch dick, huh?" We go up the steps and
down the hall to the apartment where Pony turns serious, taking hold of my
arm, saying, "All joking aside, Dylan, don't mention anything I said about
Shawn's cock to Rob, okay?" I go, "Yeah, fine, but Rob knows your gay, so...
" Pony acts startled, "Rob knows? Um, Jesus! Don't let on to anybody else.
You promised you wouldn't tell anyone." I've got my front door key out,
mumbling, "Yeah, yeah. Rob's the only one who knows, so your secret's safe."
Pony's still holding my arm, "Thanks again for helping me do the piercing,
Dylan. If you want to kiss me it's okay." I shake my head, "No, I don't
especially want to kiss you." He goes, "You can if you want to. I mean as my
way of thanking you." I snort out a laugh and unlock the door.
Rob's watching 'Wheel of Fortune' on TV and he's got scalped from his
latest Golden signature haircut. It looks like someone put a small bowl on his
head; one that sat on top, and buzzed off all the other hair leaving only
the hair under the bowl. I don't say anything about it though. We've talked
out Golden's barbering enough and by now there's nothing left to say. Rob
asks, "How'd it go, Pony?" Pony shrugs, "It was like getting a flu shot,
um, only you get the shot in your nipple." Rob chuckles, then asks, "Was
Pony a big boy, Dylan?" I go, "Actually he was awesome. Show him, Pony." He
pulls up his shirt and Rob gets off the sofa and comes over for a closer
look, saying, "Cool! I'm getting one after I graduate." I resist rubbing up the
back of Rob's head. It's apparent Golden used an-eight-inch guide this
time... and that's really short. Pony goes, "Why do you need to wait until you
graduate, Rob?" and he goes, "I don't want a nip ring while I'm on the
baseball team. It would give the guys something to break my balls about. The
guys are unmerciful when a teammate is especially different in some way. Our
latest victim was this freshman, Marty Koons, who had wicked long hair. In
just two days of practice he'd taken so much shit about it he was at
Golden's when I was there. All his long curly hair ended up on the floor.
Fuckin' Golden is heartless. Anyway, teammates can exert mucho peer pressure,
especially to underclassmen."
I'm using a church key popping the cap off a bottle of Bud, then holding
it out to Pony. "No thanks, Dylan. You know I don't like beer. You guys
wouldn't have a joint, would you?" I go, "No! Do you want a Pepsi?" He nods and
I hand a cold one to him as Rob says, "So Pony, you're not going to that
party tonight?" I answer for him, "He didn't want to go out after his
surgery." Rob smirks knowingly at me because he knows Pony has this major crush
on me and Pony likes being in the apartment; any reason will do. It's no big
deal to Rob though. We've talked about it briefly and he thinks Pony's
crush is cute. He's not worried about it in the least.
After chugging some soda, Pony does an exaggerated burp, then says, "Dylan
said you wouldn't mind if I hang-out here tonight, Rob." Rob goes, "He's
right too... I don't mind. I gotta warn you though, we're kind of boring."
Pony mutters, "I don't think you're boring," and he sits on the sofa
watching Wheel of Fortune for a minute, then asks Rob, "Anybody winning big
money?" Rob shrugs, "I wasn't really paying attention. That show came on after
NESN Sport's Center. Mostly I'm kinda evaluating how I feel,
concussion-wise." I go, "I was afraid to ask how you're feeling. I mean after you jumped
down my throat about that this morning, but how do you feel?" He goes,
"Good. Really good although not perfect. I'm going to take everything nice and
easy tonight and tomorrow hoping I can play ball on Monday. I need to pass
Slat's concussion test before he'll let me do any baseball activities."
Pony looks over at me and pats the cushion next to him on the sofa,
saying, "Why don't you sit down, Dylan." I go over and plop down while jokingly
saying, "Okay, I'll sit next to you but we can't hold hands with Rob here."
Daryl blushes as deep a red as I've ever seen him blush, and angrily say,
"Why would you say something like that?" I ruffle his hair, mumbling, "Just
teasing you, Daryl." He grunts out, "Well don't!" Rob chuckles, saying,
"It's okay, Pony. You can hold Dylan's hand; I won't get jealous." Pony's
furious, his face dark red, his lips tightly closed with tears in his eyes.
Jesus! I don't know why this upset him so much, we're only joking with him. I
quietly say, "Chill out, dude. I'm sorry for teasing you, relax." Thinking
that's the end of that, I ask Rob, "Do you want to play one of the 'Call
of Duty' games on Xbox?" He says, "No thanks, babe. I better not. Too much
activity for me in my condition. Play it with Pony." I look at him, "C'mon,
Pony, the Xbox is set-up in the bedroom." If looks could kill I'd be dead.
I don't know what I did or said that was so bad. Pony gets up stiffly and
follows me into the bedroom as Jeopardy comes on the TV. Robby mutters, "Oh,
fuck no," and changes the channel to ESPN."
I close the bedroom door and Pony's like, "Don't you ever embarrass me
like that again, Dylan, or we won't be friends!" My first inclination is to
yell, 'What the fuck is wrong with you, ya overly sensitive twerp?' But
instead I say, "I don't know what was embarrassing, Pony. Honestly I don't." He
says, "The holding hands thing. You and Rob ganged-up to mock and humiliate
me. You must have told him I asked you about guys holding hands or
something. Did you and him have fun talking and snickering about me behind my
back?" My inclination this time is to call him an immature pussy and tell him
to grow the fuck up, but instead I shake my head, murmuring, "I haven't told
Rob jack-shit about you and me, Pony. He's correctly assumed on his own
you're gay, but what happens between us, you and me, stays between you and
me. I've never said one word to anyone about a single thing you and I do or
say. Zero, zilch, nada, nothing!" He looks startled, as I add, "And Rob's
never asked either. He and I have an arrangement, an understanding that we
have a discrete open relationship. So, you're totally wrong about your
assumption that I discussed anything about you with Rob."
He was staring at me through my entire rational rebuttal of his
misconception. Finally, he slowly nods his head and goes, "Oh, I guess it's my
mistake then. You're probably wondering what the fucks wrong with me, right? You
probably think I'm a big immature baby, huh?" I shrug, "Absolutely not!
Thoughts like those simply did not occur to me, Daryl. I'm extremely fond of
you and was therefore sincerely concerned about what was bothering you. And
now I find out that it was a totally incorrect assumption on your part. I
forgive you though... ya big immature baby." He tries not to grin but he
does, muttering, "You're such a prick sometimes." I go, "C'mon give me a hug.
We'll hug it out." He steps over to lean against me and I give him a big
hug as he nestles in filling every space available, then his arms go around
my waist, as he mutters, "Prick." I have to laugh and then quickly say, "I'm
not laughing at you, Pony. Don't misinterpret my silly laughter. I'm just
a jolly guy." He mutters, "Jolly prick, you mean."
To break-up the hug I rub his head messing-up his hair and he steps away,
"Hey! Don't do that, Dylan!" Then he asks, "Do I need a haircut?" He
doesn't, but I go, "If you think you do, then you do." He mumbles, "Good. Will
you do it now." It is a fact that Daryl often acts immature when it's just
the two of us. With others, he can be acerbic and kinda funny, plus he
doesn't take shit from anyone. He's actually a bit of a ball-buster himself when
interacting with the general campus population. In fact Tom Higgins,
Daryl's roommate, has mentioned to me a few times that Pony's a bossy
pain-in-the-ass at times. I've never seen Pony be bossy except in a joking manner.
For whatever reason, he apparently likes to play the little brother role
around me. Whatever, he's managed to endeared himself to me and I kinda love
the kid.
As I'm getting out the barbering stuff Pony takes his shirt off, saying,
"I guess I need to apologize for my ill-conceived tantrum a few minutes ago.
It's just that the very thought of you making fun of me behind my back is
very hurtful to me." I drop a used bath towel on the carpet to collect hair
clippings and then put the desk chair on the towel, not that there'll be
many cut hairs and none of them will be longer than a quarter-inch.
Haircut-wise Pony would be fine for another week-to-ten-days except he likes
getting haircuts from me. And I'm positive it's not because he has a haircut
fetish. He probably doesn't even know there is such a thing.
When he sits in the barber-chair I can't help but tease him a little more,
saying, "I gotta tell you I'm really disappointed you'd even think I
would talk about you behind your back. To be honest, it kinda pisses me off." He
holds up both hands, giving me the double-finger, saying, "I already
apologized for that shit so please stop beating a dead horse!" I go, "You saying
I should stop beating a dead horse doesn't change the fact you accused me
of something I didn't do." He says, "Now you're just breaking my balls. In
hindsight though, it was stupid of me because I know you wouldn't do
anything like that. I don't know what came over me; I had a brain fart or
something and I'd appreciate if you'd stop throwing my one and only mistake I've
ever made with you in my face every two seconds." I'm like, "Every two
seconds? I barely mentioned it in passing." He goes, "Hey, mister ball-buster,
we already hugged that shit out!" I can't help but snort out a chuckle or
two.
Ha ha, it'd be so easy to tease him some more, but instead I ask, "Do you
want the same haircut you got ten-days-ago?" He turns his head to look up
at me, "You mean the middle-school haircut?" I go, "As you call it, but yes
that's what I mean?" He asks, "Do you think I should change to another
style?" Chuckling, I go, "We don't have too many choices, Pony. I mean your
hair is short already." He goes, "You said not too many choices, which means
there are a couple, right? So what are they?" Chugging the last of my beer,
I go, "I'll get myself another beer and think about that, okay?" He goes,
"I guess I'll have a beer too. I can smell your beer-breath and maybe if I
have a beer I won't be able to smell it." Shaking my head and grinning, I
mutter, "Who's the ball-buster now?"
Rob's lying on the sofa watching TV when I walk into the living room. He
looks over and smiles, so I ask, "Can I get you something to drink, Rob?" He
shakes his head, "No thank, Dylan. I'm following your advice and laying
off the beer tonight. I had that one beer earlier and it did make me feel a
little dizzy. And obviously, smoking is out of the question." I open two
bottles of Bud, saying, "I've only had two cigarettes all day myself. We
could probably quit if we wanted to." He's like, "Yeah, but I'm sticking with
my plan to quit at graduation." Walking towards the hall, I go, "Then I'm
sticking to the same plan too. It'd be, um, uncomfortable or awkward if one
of us smoked and the other didn't."
In the bedroom, I hand Pony a bottle of beer as I'm admiring his shirtless
body. Really an outstanding taut body on this guy. I give his shoulder a
squeeze. His body's muscle definition is perfectly proportioned to his
size, which is my size. Pony mutters, "Thanks for the beer, Dylan," then he
takes a swallow making a face, and says, "It's the nip ring that makes me
think I need a new hairstyle, and you're the expert, so..." I go, "Not that I'm
able to follow your nip-ring/haircut logic, there are three possibilities
for a change. I mean, considering your hair's already fairly short." He
nods, "Okay, what are the possibilities?" I go, "One, I could do a part on the
side and comb your hair over for that classic preppy look. Maybe even with
a little pompadour. I think would look adorable on you and I could even
teach you how to do the pompadour." He goes, "More ball-busting from you." I
chuckle and say, "The second possibility is the obvious buzz-cut or burr
variation of a buzz. The third is a flattop. You're hair's long enough for
that." He goes, "Hmmm, a nineteen-fifties' flattop, huh?" I chug some beer
thinking maybe I'll tie a load on tonight. Maybe I'll buy a pint of bourbon
too and have some shots and beers... get hammered.
Pony's leaning forward in the chair holding his bottle of beer with both
hands and resting his forearms on top of his thighs. My beer is in my left
hand as I use my right to run a comb back through Pony's hair. It's about
an inch-and-a-half-long on top with the bangs even a little longer, and he
doesn't need a haircut, like I said, but a flattop would work. He's got his
concentration-expression on his face, I assume trying to decide if he wants
the flattop or one of the other two choices. I'm impatient to get this
over with so I'm like, "Well what's it gonna be, Daryl?" He mutters, "Call me
by my nickname, please." I go, "Okay, Pony, but let's make a decision
already!" He says, "Yeah but first, I've been thinking, and now I know why I
over-reacted so badly in the living room a little while ago." Raising my
eyebrows, I'm like, "Do tell." He looks at me, blushing again, "It's because
I'm jealous Rob's your boyfriend." I nod, muttering, "Oh that. Yeah, well
I've been jealous a few times myself, Pony. It's a normal emotion that comes
from the reptilian part of our brains, which is the first basic structure of
our brains. Jealousy catapults us back thousands of years of evolution to
the reptilian way of processing information."
He's looking at me funny-like, asking, "Did you just make that shit up?"
Shaking my head, I go, "No, I read it once when trying to understand my own
jealousy." He asks, "What were you jealous about?" I mutter, "It doesn't
matter now because I'm over it... mostly. The point is it's normal to be
jealous once in a while and by simply acknowledging it, like you just did,
jealousy loses some of its power over you. Sharing it with me, whether you
know it or not, was therapeutic for you." He goes, "You're amazing! Yes, I'm
not as jealous now. Wow! And you claim it's because I told you about it,
huh?" I shrug, "I'm just parroting what I've read." He goes, "Goddamn, I learn
a lot from you." I say, "Ya know, Pony, you and I are forming the kind of
intimate friendship that many people would be jealous of. Not a lot of
people have a friend like you are to me, and I am to you." He goes, "That's an
awesome way to put it, Dylan. I never thought of it that way, but you're
right. We're lucky to have met one another." I go, "Yep, I feel lucky."
Thinking about that, he squints his eyes, "But.. um, the problem is I'm
never quite sure if you're putting me on or not." I go, "You should be able
to tell from my tone of voice and facial expression that I'm being serious
now. Like I've been for the last three minutes, for example." He grins,
"See, right there. I can't tell if you're breaking my balls about that tone of
voice and facial expression thing, or not." I go, "I'm not, so now you
know." He drinks some beer, then says, "Okay, I believe you're being sincere
and I like everything you said. Should we hug it out again?" I go,
"Absolutely!" so he stands and we do a tight hug. When I let go, he says, "Omigod, I
feel much better about everything now. Nice fucking talk, dude!" I can't
help but laugh a little. I go, "You are so likable, Pony. I'm lucky to be
your friend." He goes, "Yeah, you are actually, and virtually everyone thinks
I'm extremely likable." I go, "I wouldn't say extremely." He smirks and
shrugs.
After a couple of swallows of beer, I ask, "Are we done with our 'talk'
now?" He goes, "Yep, but it was an awesome fuckin' talk, right up there with
the best ones we've ever had. Don'cha think?" I nod, "Oh yeah, this was a
good talk. And, after that awesome 'talk' we can probably forget about the
haircut, right? I mean for now." He goes, "Oh no! I wanna know what you
think I should get?" Balls! We're right back where we started from. I go back
to my last suggestion, "Have you ever had a flattop?" He shakes his head,
"No, but it'd be cool to see what I'd look like as a kid living in the
fifties." A decision!
I think the last person I did a flattop for was Chubby a year or so ago.
Chubby asks for a different haircut about every third haircut and he looks
uber good in every one of them too. Rob and I rocked flattops as
seventeen-year-old boys. Those were the days my friend, as the song goes. I actually
wish I could live every one of those days over again. Not that that's an
original thought. For Pony, I'll do a longish version of a flattop so he can
still switch, with the help of hair gel, back to the preppy hairstyle with a
part if he doesn't like the flattop look. During this latest unnecessary
haircut, I only take a little off the sides and back. Then use the trimmer
clipper outlining around and behind his nicely shaped ears. Then I put hair
gel on the top hairs getting them standing-up straight by using the
hairdryer while I'm brushing his hair up and back. I tell him, "You'll need to
train your hair to stand-up like this for a week or so. Then it'll stand-up on
its own without gel." When it's dry and standing tall it's longer than I
first thought it was, but that's good. Now to do the flattop part of this
haircut.
Combing up though his bangs, stopping when the comb's about
an-inch-and-a-quarter above his forehead, and then making sure the comb is perfectly
level, I run the clippers across the comb cutting the hair down to a longish
flattop length. Combing back over his head, using the first cuts as my
guide, I repeat the process until his hair is a flattop from front to back. He
looks like he's fourteen years old as he grins at himself in the mirror. He
mumbles, "Of fuck, this is so cool." I go, "Ya don't see too many flattops
on campus." He goes, "It's nasty-sick and retro. Hey, you're a really good
barber, Dylan. Damn!" He's using 'nasty-sick' as our current vernacular
meaning 'exceeding all expectations of awesomeness'.
Pony wants to show his flattop to Rob. I follow him into the living room
carrying the towel of hair clipping that I'll shake over the balcony
railing. Rob goes, "Holy shit, that's so cool, Pony. Remember our flattops,
Dylan?" I go, "Yeah, the good ol' days, Rob. Body massages, lawn cutting, and
Bobbsey Twin's flattops." He grins, "Oh fuck, yeah." Pony asks, "Bobbsey
Twins?" Rob says, "That's what the college guys called Dylan and me because we
have the same shade of blond hair and we had matching flattop haircuts. We
were seventeen at the time." Pony mumbles, "You guys must have been really
cute teenagers." I go, "Well, yeah..."
We never do play an Xbox game. We watch a movie together instead, and
without holding hands or even mentioning holding hands... thus avoid
embarrassing Pony again. I don't buy a pint of bourbon either, and I don't tie a load
on. None of that stuff. After the movie, I drive Pony to the campus
without discussing jealousy or friendship or anything serious. He asks, "What do
you think people will say about my flattop?" I'm like, "Well, Tom, your
roommate, will have something to say, but most people won't give a shit one
way or the other, Pony. It might surprise you to know how little the vast
majority of people care how you wear your hair. I found this out when I was
getting some of the most severe haircuts imaginable, and then when the rare
person did comment about my goofy haircut it was usually surprisingly
complimentary." He goes, "Are you saying people aren't waiting with bated-breath
to see what my latest haircut looks like?" I mumble, "Sadly, yes, that's
what I'm saying." He mutters, "Well that sucks, but now that you mention it I
can't ever recall giving a shit what kind of haircut anyone else has
either. Not that I ever thought of it one way or the other before meeting you.
You've opened my eyes to realities I never dreamed of previously." I laugh,
"Glad to help." I drive illegally down dormitory row right to the front
door of Pony's dormitory. There are the usual do-gooders who comment, "Hey,
asshole, ya can't fucking drive your car down here," or 'What the fuck's
wrong with you? There are people walking here! " Shit like that.
Ignoring the protesters, I say, "Text me tomorrow, Pony. Maybe we can do
something together." He nods, "Thanks, Dylan, um, for everything." I go,
"Try not to roll over on your nip ring." He waves and walks towards his dorm's
front door as I see a good Samaritan hustling towards me to explain how
wrong it is of me driving on dormitory row. I back-up all the way to the
street, give the guy the finger, and drive to our parking lot and then yell,
"Typical!" Some asshole took my parking spot in the ten-minutes I was gone
so I park in the next lot over reminding myself I need to get the Jeep back
to Chubby tomorrow. Inside the apartment Rob grins at me, saying, "There
you are. I believe you and I need to get reacquainted in the most intimate
way imaginable." I go, "Yes, I believe you're right, but considering your
delicate condition it wouldn't be advisable for you to exert a lot of energy.
It's up to me to provide that on your awesome, um, ass." Rob goes, "I was
thinking the exact thing, boyfriend." I grin muttering, "Jesus, I gotta do
everything around here."
Turning out the living-room lights we walk to the bedroom holding hands
and smirking at one another. Rob asks, "Is Pony okay now?" I go, "Yeah, he
said he was jealous we were boyfriends." He goes, "Don't blame him. We're
something to be jealous about." First we make a stop in the bathroom for all
that necessary stuff and then with empty bladders, clean hands and faces
plus minty-fresh breath we get undressed and get in bed naked. Oh man, the
feel of Rob's naked body makes me shiver at how nasty-sick it is.
We do some soft kisses while lightly rubbing our hands over each other.
Rob murmurs, "This year has been so special with just the two of us in the
apartment. It's been fucking wonderful and almost like being married." I take
this opportunity to rub up the back of Rob's sheared head and then over
the top into his long blond hair. He has great hair. I murmur, "Knowing
we're going to be married makes me feel good, Rob. You and me, babe. Hell,
you're right that anyone would be jealous of what we've got with each other."
We kiss again with our tongues joining in and, damn, I love Robby's tongue.
It's the perfect size with the perfect firmness, not too hard or too soft.
I've experienced many tongues, especially when I was younger and more
randy, and some tongues are too big and fat while others are too firm and still
others are mushy. Different shades of pink too; some almost a brown color.
Ugh! Robby's tongue is pink and I like to rub my tongue against his. It's
very sexy!
Rob gets aroused quickly tonight; probably because he's had no sex for a
few days now. He's getting more and more aroused and that gets me more and
more aroused. We're in the most ideal circumstances imaginable being naked
in bed with the one we're romantically in love with. What could be better
than that? What an incredible sensation it is being sexually aroused too. It
takes over your mind and becomes the only thing you can think about.
Sexual arousal begins in the brain ya know. There are several steps of mental
stimuli creating internal fluctuation of hormones leading to physical changes
like increased heart rate and blood pressure along with more rapid
breathing. Increased erotic desire have me kissing and licking his mouth more
energetically. My hands grope his body while his scent acts like an aphrodisiac
to me. We squirm against one another trying for as much naked bodily
contact as possible without actually wrestling, and all of this is lumped into
what's called foreplay. Our foreplay inevitably causes a hard penis on both
of us. Hovering over everything is the knowledge that there's imminent
intercourse just around the corner. For gay guys like us it's anal intercourse,
which is the only kind that interest me.
There are quiet moans that go with desire and arousal as the entire
universe shrinks to just Rob and me. Mixed-saliva all around our mouths and our
hard cocks leak the clear liquid called pre-cum. We're both making quiet
whining sounds and then my hard cock finds Rob's asshole as he lies on his
back. With my hands on the mattress on either side of Rob he lifts his legs
and pulls them back on either side of me as I snuggle in a little closer
pushing the head of my cock past his sphincter muscle. The expression on his
face shows desire and love so when I move my hips pushing the precum-wet
head of my cock inside him further, his head goes back and he moans, "Ooooh,
Dylan, mmmm." My knees are spread as I hump another inch of boned-up cock
inside him and incredible sensations come off my hard boner that's
surrounded tightly by his rectum's tight walls. When every inch of boner is up his
ass he tightens his buttocks muscles and the tightness of his rectum
surrounding my throbbing hard-on intensifies making me moan at the delicious
pleasure. Looking down at Rob's face I see an expression of deep sexual
pleasure and that makes it sexually hotter for me. For me there isn't anything to
compare to having sex with Robby.
His shudders when I hump against his buttocks slightly moving the big bone
in his ass and setting of sensations from the nerve ending there. He moves
his legs up to rests the calves on my shoulders. If he had hairy legs I'd
probably cum right now but he, like me, has almost no hair on his legs at
all. Just some short soft blond almost invisible hairs on the front of his
calves and none at all on his thighs. That's just how it is; luck of the
draw. I don't know when I began thinking hairy legs were sexy. One day I just
did.
Moving my hips back slowly I shudder a little as sensations sizzle up and
down my hard penis, but especially from the swollen head. I pull my boner
back until I can feel the head against the tight lips of his anus catching
just under the head. Keeping slight outward pressure on his anus for a
second before sliding it tightly back up until my crotch collides with his firm
buttocks and he goes, "Ooooh, oooh... feels good, babe." He looks helpless
lying there with me pretty much in charge of this sex act. I like the
slight feeling of dominance when I 'top' and it's extra special watching Rob's
facial expressions while I'm fucking him up the ass. I know all too well
how good it feels having a hard cock fucking my ass.
After a few slow penetrations and withdrawals, I pick up the pace and then
trusts my hips faster and we begin hearing the expected sounds, "Slap,
slap, slap," and the sound increase the sexiness for me and give me a little
more of that slightly dominant feeling. Rob takes his legs off my shoulders
and get an arm around the back of each thigh pulling both legs back almost
to his chest. That lifts his ass a little and my six-inches of hard cock
now slides back and forth at a slightly different angle getting more
pressure on his prostate going in and coming out. It's a few minutes of pure
sexual pleasure that's basically indescribable and then I gasp as feelings of
impending climax takes hold and rules everything. Oh my God, what a great
irresistible feeling it is just before climax!
I know Rob's feeling his orgasm too because his eyes and mouth are closed
as desperate sounds slip out of his throat, "Umm, umm, yum, ooh oooh oooh
ooooh!" His body gets stiff as he struggles to hump his hips with creamy
white cum shooting straight up right in front of my face, a few drops of
spray clipping my chin as I lean over him driving my boner up his ass harder.
There goes another shot of his semen up in the air, Rob's making sounds like
he's in pain while clenching all the muscles in his body. The first
ejaculation reached just above my eye level. When I glanced down at his hard cock
it's quivering in its tightness and sticking straight up. I watch with
fascinated as from the gaping pee slit three more shorter strings of white cum
shoot up as Rob's in the throes of ecstasy.
The first two cum shots came down hitting Rob's side while the last three
went up a few inches and then landed wetly in his pubic hairs. He moans
and strokes his softening cock with his eyes still closed. His body looks
loose now while I'm stiff as a board, my crotch tightly against his buttocks
humping and almost gagging as I squeal with every muscle in my body tight as
a long string of cum travel up from my nuts and speedily up my
six-inch-steel-cock to spatter inside Rob's bowels, and then again as I shake and
shudder. I'm humping again but feeling weak now as my climax begins quickly
dissipating leaving behind sparkling sensations around my groin that cause a
last shudder and then a gasping, "Ahhhh, mmmm,"... and it's over already. My
body goes limp as I breathe deeply savoring those ten seconds of intense
pleasure. My heart's pounding as I gasp in another couple of deep breaths
and then do a few lazy thrusts in Rob's cream-filled rectum before I open my
eyes not even remembering when I closed them.
Rob has a red blotch on each cheek as he stretches out his legs on either
side of me and gives me a little smile, still holding his cock in his fist,
"That never gets old, does it, Dylan?" I shake my head, "Never, Rob.
Jesus, I had myself one helluva climax!" Another deep breath and I lean back
pulling my cock from Rob's ass making an involuntary, "Ssssssss," sound at the
sensations coming off the now soft head. My cock flops out and Rob says,
"This usually happens to me when I 'bottom'." I go, "What?" and as he slides
off the side of the bed, he mumbles, "I feel like I gotta take a dump."
I watch him go into the bathroom and close the door. Huh! Lying flat on
the mattress I pull the covers up to my neck without even wiping my sloppy
dick. I'm thinking, 'Hmmm, I've 'topped' Rob two or three times recently and
this is a first time he thought he needed to take a dump. Yeah, but the
way he said it made it sound like it was a much more frequent occurrence. So,
who's fucking him besides me? I know Danny's a 'top'. He fucked me really
good that one time during freshman year; he fucked me really good!
Obviously, I don't know anything about this Greg Peters person back home, but he's
probably a 'top' too. Hell, most gay guys think of themselves as 'tops'.
I'm the exception by preferring to bottom; well Pony too. So, who else is
'topping' my boyfriend? Maybe nobody and it's just Danny doing it frequently.
Rob comes back grinning and saying, "False alarm, babe," and he climbs
back in bed, adding, "I cleaned my ass a little. Lots of semen coming out and
I love that it's from you." He gets his arms around me, saying, "I didn't
feel anything, concussion-wise, during that great sex with you so I'm really
encouraged that I'm getting on top of that." I mumble, "It's still a good
idea to hang around the apartment tomorrow with no physical activities." He
nods, "Oh yeah, that's my plan."
We lie here next to each other for a minute and then I say, "My dick's
sticky." He makes a 'face' like, 'Eww,' and passes me some tissues, saying,
"Sorry to be a killjoy, but I'm really tired, how about you?" I'm wiping my
penis, "Me too, Rob, but I loved that sex we just had." Guess that might be
misconstrued as fishing for a compliment as Rob goes, "I loved the way your
boner feels so long going up my ass." Hmmm, maybe Greg Peters has a short
dick. I know Danny doesn't. Or it might be a mystery side-sex buddy of
Rob's who has a short penis. Rob turns out the light on the end table and we
snuggle together getting comfortable. Then it's a sigh and we say
goodnight... and go to sleep.
It's a wonderful uninterrupted nine hours of sleep leaving me feeling good
Sunday morning. Rob's eyes are open but he looks pretty comfortable and
not ready to get out of bed yet. I slide over to him and get the way we were
when we went to sleep. He puts his arm over me smiling and saying, "What a
wonderful thing to wake up and see you, Dylan. I've been awake for about
twenty-minutes watching you sleep. I love looking at you. Has anyone ever
told you you're cute?" I'm like, "Hmmm, no I believe you're the first, Rob."
We goof around touching each other's naked body and then rub our dicks
together getting them hard. Rob murmurs, "It's my turn," and I hold up a finger,
like 'just a second' and get out of bed to pad into the bathroom. My boner
is feeling good up against my belly, and when I come back in the bedroom
I'm holding lubricant, saying, "We should keep this in the nightstand's
drawer for easy access."
That's the last talking either of us does as we breathe with short breaths
while I wipe lube up and down Rob's fat boner and then lube my asshole
pushing lube inside with my finger and then my finger goes in two-inches to
rub my prostate making me grunt at the incredible sensations coming off of
that favorite gland of mine. Mmmm, that feels good! Pulling my finger out I
get on my knees, my forearms on the mattress and my head on the pillow with
my ass up. I glance back at Rob as he gets behind me and right away I feel
his fat-headed boner at my asshole. The head spreads the slippery lips of
my asshole and slides in tightly as I go, "Aaaah," and the rest of his fat
boner follows, spreading the walls of my rectum painfully. Rob pants,
murmuring, "Sorry, I was anxious, babe." He waits a bit and then does three slow
pull backs and thrusts. His boner slides smoothly as the pain inside me is
replaced by pleasure. "Oooh, Rob, that's awesome."
With his cock, fully up my ass he stops with his crotch tight against my
buttocks and then humps against me while he's spreading his knees adjusting
his position. Rob puts a hand under each of my hips pulling my ass up a
little and then spanks my ass, "Smack, smack, smack, smack." Just on my right
butt cheek leaving it stinging and hot. Adjusting his position again I get
two more smacks, "Smack, smack!" and then he begins a hard-fast fucking
that raises goosebumps all over me. I haven't felt Rob's cock up my ass
since Thursday and it's uniquely special to me, that plus the spanking feels
like a homecoming; therefore the goosebumps.
Risking life and limb, this recently-concussed boyfriend of mine is on a
wildly aggressive sex act perhaps to prove to himself he's recovered. It's,
"Slapslapslapslap," sounds ringing out in the bedroom with me grunting,
"Ooh!" with each hard thrust. It's a quick thrill ride to climax with strong
sensations from the spanking to the fucking to the CLIMAX! My really hot
climax shoots out of my granite-cock and goes up my stomach. Three sharp
steaks of warm creamy cum that's now drooling back down my stomach as I'm
blinking at the incredible sensations shivering all around my rectum and groin.
Rob grunts and humps against my ass filling me up with his semen, then more
gooey cum shoots inside me as Rob gasp a deep breath. I flop down on my
stomach pushing my legs out behind me to lie flat on the bed with Rob still
docked to my rectum. He lies on my back puffing out moist exhales against
the side of my face. I mumble, "Morning breath, Rob," but only as a joke
because he still has lingering minty breath from last night's toothpaste.
He snorts out a chuckle and then gets back up on his knees pulling his
cock from my ass, but only momentarily as he pulls my hips up off the mattress
and, holding them there, gets his cock back in my ass and plows it for
another two-minutes. Just as I feel a follow-up orgasm begin building Rob's
out of breath and pulls out to flop on the bed next to me. We're both on our
stomachs with our heads turned facing each other. He grins and, out of
breath, says, "Ya gotta get right back on the horse they say." I go, "Rodeo
guys?" He shrugs and grins again, "I don't know, maybe it refers to rodeo
guys. Or maybe those cowboys who break-in wild ponies. Some such shit like
that." I go, "Horse shit?" and he says, "Or pony shit maybe." We shake our
heads acknowledging that we're being goofy.
A little later we talk seriously about how he feels this morning. Bottom
line: he feels really good and very well rested. I rub the palm of my hand
on the back of his head and he goes, "Don't say a word about Golden latest
haircut. I know it's too short." I innocently shrug as if saying something
about Rob's absurd haircut is the furthest thing from my mind. He goes,
"Golden said he forgot to change guides and once he started it was too late."
I go, "I wasn't going to say a thing about that. I'm feeling for the bump
you had back there, and it's still there but smaller." He goes, "Good! It's
healing."
We take separate showers and then make breakfast together, both in good
moods. Sex before going to sleep and then again first thing in the morning
will often put a person in a good mood. After cleaning up the breakfast
dishes we ride together to buy a Sunday Globe and then, for old time sake, buy
medium coffees at Dunkin Donuts to go. We drink our second coffees of the
morning while reading the paper at the apartment. Then with the TV on the
ESPN's Sport Desk we lay around not doing much of anything. Rob gets a call
from Danny Monday and talks for a minute, then asks me, "Would you mind
company this afternoon?" I shrug, "No, not at all." Danny and Lawyer, plus a
baseball player I don't know come over and then Chubby and John Beverly come
in with another case of beer. Pony calls me and ask if he can come over and
then three more baseball teammates show-up uninvited. Everyone is drinking
beer and talking and laughing. Much later we chip in and order three large
pizzas and before ya know it it's ten o'clock and some of us are
half-in-the-bag.
No sex Sunday night and Monday morning and I'm walking around in a fog
getting ready for first class. The apartment looks almost as bad as Chubby's
and John Beverly's dorm room. Before I can ask, Rob says, "Here's an
update: I feel fine and should pass the Doc's concussion test with no problem."
He looks around muttering, "Okay, this place looks really bad but last night
was fun." I'm taking Tylenol and asking, "How come you're so perky this
morning? I've got a bit of a hangover." He goes, "I only had two beer all
yesterday for one thing. Plus I got so much sleep the last three days I'm now
invigorated and ready for anything." I mutter, "I wish I was."
Last night Chub drove the Jeep back to the campus, so this morning Rob's
driving us to class in the pickup. I didn't notice that Rob wasn't drinking
yesterday. When the other guys started coming in I lost track of Rob. Pony
was my shadow all night and we got into a card game as partners and then
some guys were on the balcony smoking pot and of course then Pony was out
there for the weed, like a moth to a flame. All in all, it was a fairly normal
college Sunday afternoon and evening I guess, except Rob and I had been
doing Sundays alone at the apartment for the past couple of months so by
comparison it was a rowdy Sunday for us.
Yesterday's party or whatever it was happened organically. Nothing planned
and it starts with a couple of guys and then a couple more and six-packs
appear and somebody has a joint or eight of them and before you know it
things just flow and happen on their own. You probably couldn't plan it anyway.
It's not something I'd like to be part of every Sunday or even once a
month, not if it's at our apartment. I mean Rob and I now need to pick up a lot
of stuff and clean the whole friggin' apartment. Plus when guys drink
their aim isn't good while taking a piss, so that's not a cool thing to clean.
And we're lucky the hijinks on the balcony didn't get rowdier and draw
unwanted attention.
Monday's a drag for me but Rob's really 'up'. After classes Rob goes to
baseball practice and I drive the pickup to the apartment and take a nap.
After dinner we give a half-hearted effort at picking up the place but decide
we'll do a little each day. So, after some picking-up we do homework
assignments and get to bed at a reasonable hour. Tuesday after class Rob invites
me to eat lunch in the dining hall with Golden and some teammates. I
decline because I'm not a teammate and I don't want to eat in the dining hall
anyway. The few times I've done it, using someone's dining hall card, I felt
real uncomfortable and the food isn't that great to start with.
So, after declining the dining hall offer I text Chub and get the Jeep.
Right now, I'm heading for Joe Blair's Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge for
lunch. A certain John Smith eats there quite often. I've had lunch and, um, a
smoke with John only three times since coming back from Christmas break.
They were three good smokes though! That's partially because ever since the
weekend in Worcester John's been doing a damn good dominant, um, smoke.
Plus, I like him but there aren't all that many opportunities to get together
this semester because of my new course schedule. Anyway I hope he's there
today, and alone!
to be continued... Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com
donnymumford@outlook.com
========================================================
Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published
and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for
next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19
year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And
there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out
by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books
can be found in some detail there. Thank you.
Donny Mumford
========================================================
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